


Sunshine and assbutt

by s_a_b_i_n_e



Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel is So Done (Supernatural), Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Comfort, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Languages of Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29175546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_a_b_i_n_e/pseuds/s_a_b_i_n_e
Summary: Dean is a tease and Castiel can't bear it any longer. He may love the ex-hunter, but enough is enough.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022302
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Sunshine and assbutt

**Author's Note:**

> The story was inspired by two tweets. Thank you [Deb](https://twitter.com/fallenatic841/status/1356773508236382214) and [Hunter](https://twitter.com/HunterDW67/status/1356776156243050496) for allowing me to use your ideas.

Castiel gnashes his teeth. He is sure, one day he will have to explain to his kid - to God himself - why he smote the body of his other father - the love of his very long life - and had to rebuild it _again_ molecule by molecule. He's praying - no that would be bad; Jack would fly in instantly. He's _hoping_ that today is not the day.

It started as a measly teasing right in the morning. "Cass, how often do I have to tell you? Staring at me the whole night is creepy."

Castiel just looked at him like caught in an indecent act. But what else was he supposed to do? 

Ever since his grace and his wings had been fully restored, he had no need for sleep. But Dean insists, again and again, to fall asleep with Castiel in his arms or wrapped around him like a four-armed octopus, and every night the angel just can't bring himself to risk Dean waking up, just because he extracts himself. The righteous man deserves good, long sleep. He never had this when he was alive back on earth.

Dean might not have had a single nightmare in heaven, but you can never be too careful when it comes to your partner's well-being, can you?

And - honestly - he isn't _staring_. He knows his gaze is way too soft whenever he looks at Dean, studies the wrinkles around his eyes, the perfect Cupid’s bow of his upper lip, the freckles on his sun-touched skin, the long eyelashes that make the harsh lines of his face so soft, especially in sleep.

Just yesterday Balthazar and Gabriel had teamed up in teasing him how 'dreamy' he is whenever Dean is around, how much he resembles a human teenage girl.

Castiel is pretty sure they were exaggerating, but he knows that Dean makes him soft. Maybe that's why Naomi - chastened by Jack and reinstalled as one of heaven's commanders - sends him on all these ugly missions, all dirt and gore. "It'll do you good, Castiel," she had voiced her opinion. He still doesn't trust her and technically she can't give him orders. But his son looked at him and he could not help but agree to the first mission. _Those damn puppy eyes!_

But Castiel's thoughts are straying. Maybe it's for the better because one more 'joke' from his ex-hunter and Castiel might just lose his shit.

How can one man be this infuriating? Really! Sometimes Castiel wishes that Dean's attention would be a little more scattered, but ever since pretty much everyone he ever cared for is in his heaven, Dean just settled down into comfortable domesticity that barely needs anything but having his angel around. He has eternity left for spending time with Sam, Eileen, Bobby, Ellen, Charlie, and all the others after all.

"Stay a little longer," Dean whined shortly after scolding him for being a creep. Castiel won't ever fathom how a grown man, his body still in his early 40's, can manage to look like a petulant child. Although the bigger mystery is that the look works on a billions of years old celestial being like him. Again: Those damn puppy eyes!

It didn't get any better when Mary dropped by and Dean's focus left Castiel at least temporarily. But as the angel tried to fry them some eggs and bacon, Dean goosed him again and again, in front of his mother who looked away in embarrassment, and asked him if he needed help.

Castiel might never become a starred chef, but the repeated question bordered on an insult. He swallowed his agitation, though. His partner may not know what behaviours beseem in front of his mother, but Castiel - as strange as human customs still might be to him sometimes - knew that scolding Dean in front of her sure wouldn't be either. So he closed his mouth shut and served the totally edible breakfast staples with gritted teeth and a superficial smile, before excusing himself to work.

Dean's cheeky grin biting into the first strip of bacon was still on Castiel's mind when he teamed up with Hannah on one of her few earthly missions. She's still not comfortable in possessing human bodies, but she does whenever needed.

It was her intense look, scrutinising as only a friend can see to your very core, that made him let out some steam. First, at the demon, they came to banish for, then with words just flowing out of his mouth.

"He's infuriating, Hannah. I love him, but he just never stops complaining about my work, about the way I do things, the way I _look_ at him."

Castiel ran a hand through his already messed up hair only to feel Hannah's today brown eyes on him in a strange mix of amusement and sympathy. Her throaty laugh, seemingly vibrating out of her stubby body, made Castiel feel small. Maybe he was just oversensitive.

Coming home to a house full of people wasn't exactly what Castiel had expected. Dean's rumbling laughter about his blood-soaked trenchcoat and smoky shock of hair neither.

Castiel stomped into the bathroom. He finally understood Hannah's love for showers after Dean had persuaded him more than once of sharing one. But today the warm and steady water raining down on him, the scent of the bodywash, and the usually relaxing lather don't soothe the feeling of fraying on the edges, of not fitting in this vessel anymore that had been his body for quite some time now.

His stupid, stupid boyfriend! Why can't he just be normal for once? Just because he is already dead doesn't mean that he can act like nothing could ever hurt his angel.

Castiel scrubs his vessel's skin until it's angry red and his whole body smells like Dean's. The scent isn't helping his mood as it usually does.

He sighs and shuts off the water, steps out of the shower, not caring that he drips all over the floor. He brushes a hand over the steamy mirror and looks at the distorted reflection of his face.

Why the hell did he have to fall in love with Dean Winchester?

As if on cue the door behind him opens and Dean strolls in, toothy grin and all. Castiel rolls his eyes.

"What do you want?" he growls, not looking at him. Dean's smile falters for a second before he puts it on again.

"Just wondered if you drowned in the toilet or something."

"No, Mister Smart-aleck, I don't need to use the toilet. Just like you, no matter how much you like reading your comics on it."

"Not comics, graphic novels, Cass. And yes, a man needs some privacy from time to time. Sue me."

"There is no courtroom in heaven, Dean," Castiel sighs in annoyance. "And I would appreciate it very much if you wouldn't bother me for the rest of the day. I heard enough stupid things coming out of your mouth. I'm tired and you are the last one I want to see right now."

Dean works his jaws into something stubborn as if he were pulling himself taut like a sail on the stormy sea, willing to brave the weather in all its forms. The angel still isn't looking at him.

"Thought I was your happiness," Dean teases, forcing his voice to sound chirpy even though his heart is thoroughly in his mouth. "Come on, sunshine."

The endearment usually brings a smile to Castiel's face, but it's falling short today. Dean knits his brow together in concern and his heart stops still for a long, painful moment as Cass replies, "Not at this specific moment in time." 

His voice is grumpy and hurt. Dean would kick himself if he could. He knows he's bad at this relationship thing. He warned Castiel about it right after their first kiss. But he kind of expected it to be different with Castiel. The angel knows him like no-one else, not even Sammy. He's aware of all his flaws and shortcomings, and still doesn't expect him to change just to be worthy of his love.

He watches Cass' reflection in the mirror, his usual soft features like set in stone, unapproachable and cold. It sends a shiver through Dean's body. What has he done?

"I love you?" It's the only thing Dean knows to say, one of the few things he knows to be real and true. And still, his voice tilts up at the end in a silent question that he hopes Castiel can hear while he is sinking into self-doubt again, feeling as if the Empty would come any minute to this time engulf him in black darkness.

Castiel feels the shift in atmosphere and sighs exasperatedly, in a way that heaven and the whole universe is surely able to feel.

"Yes, Dean," he says, bracing himself a last time on the washbasin, and turns around, damp hair sticking in all directions. Usually, the sight would do beautiful things to Dean's heart, but that still seems to be out of order.

Castiel cups his cheeks with wet hands, waiting until Dean dares to meet his eyes. "Unfortunately, I love you too."

Dean's heart stutters like the motor of Baby before it purrs into life. The first beat is painful, but at least Dean can breathe again.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Castiel smiles one of his sad smiles that Dean is well accustomed to from their time on earth, but hasn't seen since he had heard the words, "You weren't meant to arrive this early, Dean." He had promised himself to never place it on those lips ever again. Just another miscarriage on his long lists of failures.

"I know," Castiel's soft voice cuts through the unrelenting wave of self-loathing. He leans his forehead against Dean's whose breaths come out in a broken sob. "I just sometimes forget what a tease you've been back on earth. It didn't strike me as often then as it does now."

Dean nods silently.

* * *

"What's up, Dean?" Sam's voice comes out of the dark. Dean doesn't even flinch on his spot sitting in the armchair on the veranda. It had taken him some time to lose the reflexes, but time in heaven can even heal the most ingrained reactions to potential danger.

"Nothin'," he answers, hoping against all odds that his brother might leave it at that.

"Come on, man. I'm not stupid. You coming back without your angel in tow, grumpy and sad looking. What monkey business have you been getting up to this time?"

Dean sighs and Sam is taken aback at the intensity of it. Ever since he arrived in heaven, Dean has been nothing but flowers and sunshine. It's disgusting, really. Of course, Sam loves seeing him so carefree. And he loves teasing him about it, too. 

"I think I finally jinxed it."

Sam furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean?

"Cass is finally fed up with me. I knew this day was gonna come, but I hoped it might take longer."

"What have you done?"

Dean laughs self-deprecatingly and takes a slug from his near-empty beer bottle. "Opened my mouth. Should'ave kept it shut."

Sam's frown morphs into one of his trademark bitch faces. "That hasn't kept him from falling in love with you in the first place, has it?"

Dean pulls at the label of his bottle, still wet from condensation. "He doesn't want to see me for the rest of the day and went 'to sleep'."

Sam suppresses a chuckle. Being with the angel for so long clearly is rubbing off on his brother, at least the habit to use air quotes.

"He doesna need to sleep, Sammy. He's just sitting up there, hating me and probably all of his poor life decisions ever since he pulled me out of hell."

Dean runs his hand over his face, trying to chase away the tears welling up against his will. Sam lays his hand on his shoulder. It's meant to comfort, but Dean doesn't think he deserves sympathy. Still, he doesn't shrug it off.

"He'll come around. Just give him time and then you'll talk." Dean hums non-committally. "Let's fetch you another beer. I think you need it," Sam says and squeezes his shoulder before walking inside again. 

Dean looks up to the stars and the moon above him. They are not the real ones, but Castiel put them up there - just for him.

Dean sighs. Cass is too good for him. He always knew that. Why did he have to fall in love with Castiel, the angel of Thursday?

* * *

Sam looks at the bottles of beer in his hands and shakes his head. He knows his brother and he knows his friend. They are the most stubborn people he knows. They will never properly fix it. They will fall into each other's arms, push back their anger and fear and will wait until the pent-up tension rips them apart over and over again.

Before he can talk himself out of it he climbs up the stairs and strides to the master bedroom. He knocks and opens the door without waiting for an answer.

As expected the angel sits on the side of the bed, clothed in his freshly cleaned, ridiculous trenchcoat. For a split second, Sam wonders if he gets undressed at least for some fun time, but that involves his brother and he for sure won't allow his thoughts to stray that far.

He clears his throat to get Castiel's attention. "Did Dean send you?" the angel asks, sounding tired.

"No, not really. Thought you could need a beer," he says. At least half of it is the truth. Castiel smiles knowingly but takes the offered bottle nonetheless.

Sam fidgets with the label on his own, moving his weight nervously from one foot to the other. "Whatever he said that hurt you, he didn't mean it. You know that, right?"

Castiel huffs a mirthless laugh. "He's saying a lot of things he doesn't mean then. Probably everything apart from that he loves me."

Sam winces quietly. This is worse than he thought. "What do you mean?"

Castiel sighs. "He teases me from the first moment he opens his eyes until the last breath he takes before he falls asleep. I have this the whole day from my brothers and sisters who still find it hilarious that I fell in love, with Dean Winchester of all people. I don't need this shit at home."

Sam turns his face down to hide his grin. Castiel isn't the only one rubbing off in this relationship.

"You do know that teasing is Dean's favourite language of love? Have you ever heard how he's talking to me? Or anyone else? Save Mum and Dad, maybe."

Castiel looks up at him. "What do you mean?"

Sam chuckles. "The way he is bickering with me all the time, that he first learnt to sign insults for his loved ones before even asking the sign for bacon, calling me bitch. It may sound like an insult to you, but I think Sammy aside, this is the fondest expression he allows himself to show his love to me."

Castiel moves Sam's reasoning in his mind and entertains the thought. It sure sounds like a thing Dean would do. Not that Castiel is good at feelings. Love is the only one he really comprehends fully and it took him the better part of a decade to figure this one out.

Sam had once called his brother emotionally constipated, but that was before Castiel lived as a human and learnt how unpleasant this physical condition really is.

He fixes his gaze on Sam and nods. "I think I understand."

"Good," Sam replies and adds one for good measure. "Good."

* * *

It's late when Dean finally finds his way into their joint bedroom. He may be a little drunk, needing the liquid courage to face his boyfriend after failing him.

The room lays in darkness, the moonlight slipping through the curtains the only light showing the unmoving lines of Castiel's body. Dean undresses, hovering his hands over the waistband of his briefs, unsure if his nakedness would be welcome. He leaves them on and slips under the covers.

He stares at the back of Cass' head for a long moment. There are those stupid tears again, burning like holy fire in the corners of his eyes.

"Won't you scoot over and cuddle me, assbut?" The words and Castiel's soft voice don't seem to fit together and Dean wonders if the last beer was spoiled and makes him hallucinate now.

Castiel raises his blanket and repeats, "Cuddle me, assbut."

Dean's breath explodes into a fit of laughter. Through half aborted laughs, he asks, "What's gotten into you?"

Castiel chuckles. "I learnt today that insults can be used as terms of endearment and obnoxious behaviour can be a vehicle of expressing love. It dawned on me that you might be one to use it, although the concept still bothers me."

Dean scoots over to him and pulls his boyfriend flush to his front, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I will try to hold back if you promise me to tell me if I make you uncomfortable whenever I do it."

Castiel hums in agreement.

"What is it? I can hear you thinking," Dean murmurs after a while of silence between them.

"I was just wondering if this constitutes our first fight as a couple," Castiel muses.

Dean's face morphs into a near predatory grin. "If it means make-up sex, I'd say yes."

"You're a menace," Castiel scolds him without heat.

"Yeah, but I am _your_ menace, sunshine," Dean chuckles.

"That you are indeed ... assbut."

**Author's Note:**

> This was an attempt at humour. I clearly failed in most parts. I like it though. Hope you did, too. Let me know in the comments. 💙💚


End file.
